Customer service at its finest

So, I just received a disconnect notice from AT&T, because there's been (in my head) some confusion with my internet bill. Before you get gossipy, I owed a whopping $77, so calm yourself. Anyway, I realize once I get the notice that I really need to settle down and get this figured out -- I got a bill saying I owed this bill, but it was shortly after I'd paid another bill, which I thought was for my current address.

I realize now it was for my former address, which was just across the street; I'm at 5505 now, before I was at 5516. Since I pay all my bills online, I'm not in the habit of remembering all my account numbers, and I'm doing a much better job of trashing bills after I pay them so that I no longer lie to myself by saying I'll be good and shred them (as opposed to being horribly irresponsible and dumping them in a community trash bin).

Last month, I did what thousands of people each day do -- in preparing for a move, I called AT&T to disconnect service from Place A and connect new service at Place B. Easy breezy, unless you're speaking to any moron who works for AT&T.

This is how today's conversation went:

CSR: "AT&T, this is Myra, how can I make your experience wonderful today?

Me: "Hi, Myra -- I need to pay an overdue bill, but I'd first like to get a little clarification on that account. I recently moved and disconnected service at one apartment, then reconnected at my new one, and it seems like I paid several bills all at once. I need to pay this, but I want to first make sure it's for my current apartment, not my old one."

CSR: "Excuse me?"

Me: *confused silence* "Umm... did my phone cut out? How much did you hear?"

CSR: "You wanna pay a bill?"

Me: *sigh* Yes, fine. I need to pay my DSL bill.

Myra connects me to collections and billing

CSR: "This is Pepper, can I get your phone number, please?"

I offer my cell number, which is the only one I have

CSR: "Is this account connected to a home number?"

Me: "Yes, that is my home number. It's my cell phone, but the number I use."

CSR: "Ma'am, is this account connected to a home?"

Me: "I don't... ummm... yes, my home, yes."

In the ensuing silence, I realize what she's actually asking.

Me: "Oh! No, I'm sorry; I don't have home phone service through AT&T, no."

CSR: "Connecting to wireless."

Me: "No, no, I am calling about internet!"

Silence.

As often as I vow to never, ever, EVER deal with AT&T again, their stupid monopoly prevents that from happening. Well, their monopoly and my insistence on living in 'quaint' apartments and whatnots, which generally translates into old -- which means smaller, more nimble, less dickwad companies generally don't extend service to them. Grrrr.

In a totally unrelated story, I found out while on the East Coast that a person can purchase a train ticket on the Amtrak and/or MARC, which is the commuter line between DC and Maryland. I visited Baltimore for a few hours one day and at the kiosk, the ticket was a very affordable $7. But if I'd boarded the train sans ticket and purchased it from a conductor -- who actually wears that little hat and vest, like the movies -- it would've been $3 more. Get that? They charge you more to actually interact with a person.

Is Amtrak owned by AT&T? That makes about as much sense as hiring a deaf CSR to take my call.

If at first you don't succeed... fill a sack full of rocks and knock that fool out.

So, driving home this evening I was happy: great weather, relaxed weekend on tap, ready to get home and be sappy with Mr. Brown. I'd been spinning a playlist on my iTunes for the previous few hours, which Genius launched based on a Jennifer Hudson track from Dreamgirls. It's one of those tunes I can very literally rewind for an hour and not get sick of it. That song spawned tracks by Jill Scott, Lauryn Hill, Ike & Tina, and Mary J. Blige. All are quite yay-worthy.

As I'm singing along, I clue in to the lyrics to Try Again, one of Aliyah's final recordings before she bought it in a plane crash. Sad that, since she was just 22 -- I guess R. Kelly mourned her loss by trying his hand (as it were) at water sports. But, I digress.

So, the lyrics make a great club jam, but I paused more than once:

What would you say
To have your way
Would you give up
Or try again
If at first you don't succeed, dust yourself and try again...


If you dont wanna throw it all away
Might be shy on the first date
What about the next date...

Am I the only one who thinks Aliyah wanted a fool to stalk her? Maybe R. Kelly wasn't giving her what she needed -- she wanted a little more chase, a little less, errr... psuedo-sexual stage play? This song came out around the same time she was rumored to have been his wifey, but from all I recall, she was ride or die in her own right. Maybe she wanted a dude to hold her stash, instead of vice versa? I don't know; I'm all about a guy giving his all, but if I'm shy on the first date, there's generally a reason. I've dated enough of the wrong men to know when it's right, and I think it's a pretty good bet that, when a woman doesn't speak to you, look at you or stand within 25 feet of you, she very likely does not want to be with you.

So to all those dudes emboldened by Aliyah's words, do yourself a favor and stop trying. You're really going to hate life when you wind up in county lock-up.

Back to Black

What's got two thumbs, an addiction to Golden Girls and the urge to blog? This girl right here! I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been a bit, shall we say, absent. But if you're wondering why, see my previous post, to wit: pimp, re: hard out there.

Since 2010 dawned (chill with that internal dialogue, I know it's mostly over), I've had a few changes in my life. Let's enumerate, shall we?

• Most obviously, sappy, inconvenient, messy love has found me, and his name - for social media purposes - is Leroy Brown. He is, in fact, the baddest man in the whole damned town... until he's drunk. Then, he's all soft and lovey dovey. Well, sometimes.
• A new two bedroom apartment, which is supposed to give us a little more room whilst living together on the daily and professing our love. What it's thus far succeeded in doing, however, is putting us both on the edge of hoarder status. You do not want to see that second bedroom; one hopes, with all the stuff, we could find a few winning lotto tickets and perhaps a stray migrant farm worker, but I'm willing to bet we won't.
• Dealing with an Alzheimer's diagnosis for my grandmother; there's nothing funny in the least about this, except maybe the fact that she'll eventually forget how much she hates short hair, so I can cut it again without her getting c-r-azy and shaking her grandmotherly fist in the air. She and Leroy are in cahoots, as he loves the long hair, too. I'm not sure why neither of them can see it looks like a dirty mop.
• Bigger boobs -- like, for reals. I have officially moved into astounded, especially given that I just thought I was gaining weight. But nooooo.... I go for a proper measurement, like any boobalicious gal should, and found the band size was exactly the same, but the cup size had inched up. While I'm certainly not one to generally lament what is fair and what isn't, I'm not even sure how that's possible. I'm nearly 33, for poop's sake -- why is that even cool? I'm already dealing handily enough with rotating the same six outfits, given my disdain for shopping and full realization that I am exactly like my cheap ass father (only 30 years younger and with more debt, so it really makes sense not to make more of it). So why would Jebus (his real name; the Old Testament surely got it wrong) continue to bless me in the boobage department? I secretly wonder if I'll have to pay to check this luggage on my next flight.

In a conversation last night, I told Leroy that it's not good enough to say you're going to do it -- you either do it or you don't. While we were discussing the gym, I need to begin reapplying the same logic to my life again. Somewhere along the line, I got a bit off track, so instead of yammering about how I'm about to get back into the swing, I'm just going to shut my f'ing mouth and do it. The world is watching -- at least, my world is.  I can't say what my future posts will be about - my 'single woman dating douchebag' stories are long since over - but I won't worry about that now. Without struggle there is no progress, right?

Commence struggling.